


Don't Ask Me for My Name

by foxpuppet



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alley Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hook-Up, Identity Porn, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Short One Shot, but it should be, is not a thing, unresolved identity tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 14:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxpuppet/pseuds/foxpuppet
Summary: They danced for as long as they could stand. Perhaps three songs. Then Bruce dragged them off the floor. Towards the door.Inspired by "F**k Me Up" by Highly Suspect
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 218





	Don't Ask Me for My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to serephent, who actually asked me to follow through, which (for me) is genuinely motivating. Thanks serephant! Hope you enjoy.

They knew. The moment their eyes met, they knew. This was the man they had been fighting beside for over a year. This was the man they had wanted for over a year. This was who he was outside of the cape.

Bruce moved first but stopped before he reached Clark. Clark closed the distance.

The bar was playing heavy rock far too loud. But no one was here to talk. People were here to find others like themselves. People looking for a pick up.

And apparently Bruce and Clark had found it. They stood close. Too close to be anything but intimate, despite the public setting. And neither of them backed away, even as the crowd pushed them closer. They stared; Bruce daring, Clark intent.

Then Clark started dancing. Grinding. Demanding more.

Bruce hesitated for as long as it took him to assess the risks. The gains. A matter of seconds. Then he wrapped his hands around Clark’s swaying hips and pulled him close.

They danced together. Well, they swayed together. They ground together. They essentially dry humped on the makeshift dance floor together. Their chests pressed closed and they could feel each other’s hearts pounding. Throbbing. Aching to touch.

Both of them had been in such a position, in such a location, before. This much was obvious. This added to the excitement, to the desire.

They danced for as long as they could stand. Perhaps three songs. It was impossible to tell. Then Bruce dragged them off the floor. Towards the door.

Before they could make it out, Clark pushed Bruce against the wall. With just a little more strength than should be possible. Because somehow he knew it would make Bruce wild. Bruce knew that was why Clark did it. And he loved it all the more for that.

They stared at each other. Looked into one another. Neither of them could tell what they wanted. Other than him. Him, now, please.

Neither knew who initiated the kiss. But it was immediately wet and dirty. There was no possibility it could be otherwise. There was too much between them. Too many wants. Too many secrets. Too much understanding.

“Want you,” Clark began.

Bruce kissed him to stop the flow of words. Terrified of what might come out. Exhilarated by the feel of Clark against him. They kissed and kissed. And broke apart with a sound loud enough to cover the music briefly for the both of them.

“To take me,” Clark finished.

Bruce swayed. Clark held him up, held him close. “Please,” he added.Bruce grabbed the back of Clark’s neck and dragged him out the door. It made Clark’s knees weak in turn.

Neither of them were willing to admit that they knew. That they knew the other knew. And so Bruce dragged Clark behind the bar, into an alleyway that was cleaner than it could have been but no cleaner than it aught. Because this was what it was for.

As soon as they had moved far enough back Clark fell to his knees. He pulled out Bruce’s cock. He stared at the part of Bruce he had considered far more often than was professional. The sight of it made Clark’s mouth water.

Clark couldn’t stop himself from sucking delicately at the tip first. Letting himself get that taste that he had dreamed of too often. His mind lit up with pleasure at the feel of a heavy cock in his mouth, at the knowledge of who it belonged to.

Bruce slapped his palm to the wall. Let out a feral growl, a sound so familiar in this surreal setting. He gripped the back of Clark’s neck, tangling his fingers in the sweaty hair that tangled at Clark’s nape. He shallowly rocked his hips, not controlling but meeting Clark’s movements.

They worked in tandem to get Bruce off. Their teamwork perfectly in sync as always. The idea that their physical compatibility followed into the carnal made them both amused and painfully aroused.

Clark pulled off and panted up at Bruce, mouth open, tongue trailing a long string of spit to the tip of Bruce’s dick. His eyes were hazy, wanting. His face was flushed. Bruce felt his heart clench. He ran one tender thumb over Clark’s open mouth, breaking the line of saliva, making Clark moan.

“Fuck,” Bruce said. The word was more breath and consonant than anything else. Long and almost reverent.

Clark surged up and they were kissing again. The urgency they both felt coming from the idea that at any moment everything would snap back into place. That reality would reassert itself. That they would be back to standoffish allies, this tension unaddressed and suffocating.

Clark was pulling at his own zipper, actually warping the tab in his desperation. He shoved his jeans and underwear down, yanking Bruce’s hand to his arse. Pressing his fingers into the cleft, towards his clenching hole.

Bruce moaned, ran dry fingers over that hungry opening. Clark gasped as they dipped into him, pressing back, wanting so much more.

But Bruce pulled away, making Clark let out a frustrated cough. He grabbed at Bruce’s wrist again, wanting to drag his hand back to where it was desperately needed. But Bruce shook his head.

“Wait,” he said softly. A request for momentary patience, not for a stop of proceedings.

He pulled two metallic sachets from his pocket, ripped them both open with his teeth. Leaving one clenched in his mouth -Clark continuing to kiss around it desperately, distractingly, incredibly arousingly- then took the other down to his fingers back at Clark’s arsehole.

The lube was warm from being in Bruce’s pocket. He slid in two fingers in straight away, knowing Clark could take it, sensing Clark would want it.

Clark moaned and ground their bare dicks together. A crowd of people moved past the mouth of the alley and Clark whimpered, trying to keep the noise down.

“Shh,” Bruce said, breath hot and close. The smile was obvious in his voice.

Clark pulled a face, yanking the other sachet out of Bruce’s mouth. Kissing him deeply Clark pulled the condom out of the packet and rolled it on, without looking, with Bruce still fingering him deep. The implication of experience in this was more than Bruce could handle and he spun Clark around to press against the wall.

He held himself at Clark’s entrance, rubbing over it, catching the latex covered tip on the rim before riding too high or too low. Clark whined, writhed, didn’t protest the teasing at all.

Bruce licked his lips. “Gonna,” was all he said.

“Do it,” Clark said, not waiting for more.

Bruce pushed in steadily. Both of them let out gut-deep moans, the sounds of dying men given reprieve at the last second. As they pressed together they felt the connection that had been lacking in their relationship and both denied it was what they had always needed at the exact same moment.

Bruce slid forward endlessly. Clark actually punctured the brick he was holding, pressing his fingers deep into the masonry. The sight, the thought, the bone-deep understanding of how unimaginably strong the man he was currently fucking made Bruce pull back out before the end of his stroke, then fuck the whole way back in. Balls deep and gasping.

Clark let out a moan that sounded like he found god at the end of Bruce’s dick and between them both there was no chance of slowing down. They fucked hard and fast and desperate.

Between them both was constant cut off sounds. “Sup” and “Bat” ebbing and flowing between them. A not-acknowledgement of who they were, of who they wanted to be fucking. The sound of slapping skin and desperate breathing twined around the suppressed cries.

They had both been close since first seeing each other on the dancefloor. Since both understanding the other was here for something they had assumed impossible.

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” Clark gapsed desperately, meeting Bruce’s thrusts with such intensity Bruce couldn’t tell who was fucking whom. “Batman-”

Bruce let out a sound so loud people in the street no doubt heard as he came thickly into Clark’s twitching hole. He slammed in, again and again, desperate for this to not be over.

Clark let out a moan, long and almost admiring as he came in thick spurts over the wall, completely untouched. He pressed back into each of Bruce’s thrusts, equally unwilling to let this end.

Then they panted together. Both stopping to think about how they had just fucked in an alleyway where anyone could see. Both feeling the sluggish stirring of post-orgasm arousal at the idea and unwilling to admit it.

Bruce slowly pulled out. Clark’s breath hitched. Neither could keep from pressing desperate kisses to each others' mouths, faces, necks. Neither could give up the contact they had craved for so long.

Bruce pulled away, tidying himself. Clark pulled his pants up, burning away his come that painted across the dirty brickwork with heat-vision. They stood in awkward silence.

The moment stretched beyond strangers not knowing what to say.

Then Clark, always the more loquacious of the two said, “I’m here,” then stopped.

Bruce looked up, his eyes as hopeful as Clark had ever seen them, giving him strength to go on.

“I’m here most Fridays,” Clark said to his shoes. He glanced at Bruce’s shoes, as far as his bravery could extend. “If your were ever here again-”

“I’m free Fridays,” Bruce said.

Clark pulled his lips between his teeth, suppressing a smile. Bruce clenched his teeth, suppressing his own expression of pleasure.

“Then, see you next Friday. Maybe,” Clark said, glancing up, his grin becoming difficult to hide.

Bruce didn’t bother, letting his teeth show in a predatorily satisfied way. “See you next Friday,” he said with assurity.

They kissed. Languid and assured and incredibly familiar for only one encounter.

With no idea how this would affect them on the battlefield they separated. Both smiling. Both sure that, at the least, this would undoubtedly make things more interesting.


End file.
